Old Josh in: Fraternizing with the Nelly the Cow! [1873] Episode: #19 Part I and II
Old Josh in:
Fraternizing with Nelly the Cow!
[1873] Episode: #19 Part I of II
[Advance] There was a cow over in the pastor next door to the Hightower’s—Henry Jackson Birmingham and his wife Mahogany, bought the place in 1872, several months had passed, and Mahogany had met Old Josh, but has not said much to her husband about it, not much to say I would think. They bought the place from Thomas August Smiley, a white neighbor, the Birmingham’s are Negroes, who had inherited some money, and got the place for a good price. Mahogany, has taken a liking for Silas’ younger brother, Jordan as well as for the white neighbor Abernathy, opposite side of her farm, of the Hightower’s; Jordan who works in the country story in town (Ozark, Alabama), and lives in the back of the store most of the time, when not helping his pa at the Hightower plantation, like Silas does, is now home for the weekend to help his pa. Ella Hightower, Mr. Charles T. Hightower’s wife is kind of always in the background, but she is there nonetheless. Charles, also heavy with age, has had his heart trouble in the past.
There was a cow in the pastor, Henry Birmingham had bought him a few weeks ago, it was watching old Josh as he fiddled about, watching I’d say, without interest, as Josh fiddled about fixing, or trying to fix the barn door, to be correct, the hinges on the barn door, and he saw the cow from the side of his eye, over across the fence, borderline between the two properties, the cow was just staring, yawning, as Josh looked, now leaning against the barn a bit, Silas along side the barn greasing a wheel for Hightower’s carriage, Josh got annoyed at the new comer in town the neighbor next door that is. Jordan his youngest son was also on the plantation, he worked in a store in Ozark, during the week and slept on a cot in the back of the store, and if and when he could, he’d come home to help Silas and Josh around the plantation, somekind of an agreement Mr. Hightower, the owner made with Josh a long time back.
Old Josh was getting annoyed with the cow; it was as if the cow looked at him or looked over him insignificantly. The morning sun seemed to fall directly over the cow’s head, and it seemed to have a smirk on its face also, or so it looked as its head was pointed in his direction, Josh was a distance away of course, his eyes old, the hinges of the door on his mind, a jog of moonshine hidden in back behind the door, the door he was working on, but the cow looked that way—his way and it was aggravating, even though Josh could not get a good view, picture of the cow actually smirking, purposely smirking that is.
Josh walked over to the fence, jug in hand, over to the fence, looked long and hard at the cow, then at the barb wire fence, and his jug, and the cow, and the fence, and the moonshine again. The cow’s name was Nelly; he had heard Mahogany, the owner’s wife call it that.
“Wahts you git in that jug?” yelled Silas to his pa.
“Sprin’ water—,” quivered Josh as if to say it was none of his business, but didn’t, he just gave him a stare, a long stare that said what he was thinking.
The growth of the weeds kind of sheltered, and camouflaged Josh, on the other side of the fence, the cow consumed the bulk of the picture if anyone, such as the Hightower’s happened to looking his way,
Now both Josh and the cow were starting by one another, face to face you could say: big eyes at little eyes, Josh picked up the old broken metal pot, he had brought along to cover the jug with and poured some moonshine in it, fed it to the cow, and the cow drank it down, and back on the ground Josh sat watching, taking another swig himself. The cow now had a dull-gleam to its face, and hazy tin looking eyes.
The jug now between cow and man, and the cow laying down on all fours, thus, both squatted bravely by each other, and then Silas showed up.
“Pop, I dont know if we aint a-goin to git in trouble, Mr. Highter dont take to drinkin’ moonshine on his land, nor Mr. Berham…feeding dat dar cow of his the same…!
“Hus,” said Josh.
“Her woc,” said Josh, “I reckon we kin have one mo’ at dat right?” and the cow said “Mo…oooo!” And old Josh translated that into more moonshine, and gave him a lick.
“I reck-on you’ll wan-t a drink-in’ cup wont you?” Slurred Josh.
Then Josh looked up at his son, his son saying, “I knows how to drink out en a jug dot I?” And Josh passed the jug.
Old Josh and the Birmingham Cow
[1873] Episode #19/Part II of II
It had been a few days since Josh had his drinking bout with the Birmingham Cow—
“Dey dnt wants you in, wid dher cow, on dar land,” said Jordan, Josh’s younger son, adding, “Ef de Lawd don’t’ take no better care of yo’ dan I is got to…”
“I don’t want to go dar, noways,” Josh rejoined.
“Mmmmmm…,” Jordan brewed.
“When us drink up dat ‘tere moonshine, blowed clean out en our min’
let ‘lone me stomach,” said Josh, adding “dat tere cow wuz back dar,” Josh pointing by the tree over by the fence where the cow was the other day, and had returned now; Jordan adding, “I dune thought Mr. Birmham wuz goin’ to talk to Mr. Hightowr…bout you, but he didnt…yous lucky old man!”
You could here a dog howling over by the Birmingham’s front steps, Mr. Abernathy; the owner on the other side of the Birmingham’s was talking to Mahogany on her steps, another young couple, white folks, who bought the farm, he took a shine towards her, or at least that is what Old Josh thought, he was there five days out of the week talking to her as she drank her bathtub wine.
Josh stared at the two, unwinking, trying to make out a better picture for his mind, but everything was a blur, except that white skin shining in the morning sun that found its way through the thin stretched out milky white sky.
Josh found a new spot to sit and drink away the afternoon, after Jordan had left, it was a spot parallel the main road, in back of the Birmingham’s property, on government land, by some old looking whip-poor-wills, there he found his cow waiting, and they drank again, as if they were sidekicks, and perhaps they were, old Nelly took a liking to the moonshine, and Josh was not cheap with it—they both lay there steadfast, shielded by scrub and tree, and foliage of all sorts, his head was the only thing showing like a salt and pepper shaker mixed. Had someone been looking out of the Hightower house window from the side of the living room as Ella Hightower was they could have seen Josh’s head, and if she did she did not say a word to her husband.
Ella Hightower
Fraternizing with the Jug
Ella sat back in her chair in the living room, all of her instincts told her to leave well enough alone, it was a warm, and calm afternoon, and Her husband was composed, quiet, as was Josh, in his grave serenity of sorts, in which his days accomplished themselves. She had a tasteless stimulation, the secret I suppose, Josh drunk with a cow, so be it, whatever reason he had to drink so be it, she was not going to ridicule him to alarm her husband, whom would only fret over something he had no control over anyhow; she didn’t say a word: so be it, and take the whiskey with you to the grave—was her thinking, and the cow with you; she liked the afternoons she had with Charles, there were not many, so she got to appreciate the ones she got. And a drunken Negro was not going to spoil it.
Ella sat back in her rocker with her many fabrics nearby on the floor, colorful, ready to sew and crochet, she had some patterns on her lap, and she shifted them about like a puzzle. Across the room Charles sat smoking his corncob pipe, reading Hawthorn’s ‘The Scarlet Letter,’ turning pages ahead to take a peak, quickly to avoid Ella’s unseeing eyes, lest she scold him for cheating on reading the book in advance. The afternoon subsided without any grand moment, as the unshadowed head of Josh’s disappeared with the cow’s after an hour or so more, and Mr. Hightower had now fallen to sleep, book still opened, finger in the advanced section of the book, he had submerged himself into its pages, until his mind succumbed and warmly passed into deadly sleep, like a bird folding its wings.
Note: part one written at El Parquetito, 8/2/2006; part two written 8/3/2006, during lunch and coffee, in Lima, Peru.
Fraternizing with Nelly the Cow!
[1873] Episode: #19 Part I of II
[Advance] There was a cow over in the pastor next door to the Hightower’s—Henry Jackson Birmingham and his wife Mahogany, bought the place in 1872, several months had passed, and Mahogany had met Old Josh, but has not said much to her husband about it, not much to say I would think. They bought the place from Thomas August Smiley, a white neighbor, the Birmingham’s are Negroes, who had inherited some money, and got the place for a good price. Mahogany, has taken a liking for Silas’ younger brother, Jordan as well as for the white neighbor Abernathy, opposite side of her farm, of the Hightower’s; Jordan who works in the country story in town (Ozark, Alabama), and lives in the back of the store most of the time, when not helping his pa at the Hightower plantation, like Silas does, is now home for the weekend to help his pa. Ella Hightower, Mr. Charles T. Hightower’s wife is kind of always in the background, but she is there nonetheless. Charles, also heavy with age, has had his heart trouble in the past.
There was a cow in the pastor, Henry Birmingham had bought him a few weeks ago, it was watching old Josh as he fiddled about, watching I’d say, without interest, as Josh fiddled about fixing, or trying to fix the barn door, to be correct, the hinges on the barn door, and he saw the cow from the side of his eye, over across the fence, borderline between the two properties, the cow was just staring, yawning, as Josh looked, now leaning against the barn a bit, Silas along side the barn greasing a wheel for Hightower’s carriage, Josh got annoyed at the new comer in town the neighbor next door that is. Jordan his youngest son was also on the plantation, he worked in a store in Ozark, during the week and slept on a cot in the back of the store, and if and when he could, he’d come home to help Silas and Josh around the plantation, somekind of an agreement Mr. Hightower, the owner made with Josh a long time back.
Old Josh was getting annoyed with the cow; it was as if the cow looked at him or looked over him insignificantly. The morning sun seemed to fall directly over the cow’s head, and it seemed to have a smirk on its face also, or so it looked as its head was pointed in his direction, Josh was a distance away of course, his eyes old, the hinges of the door on his mind, a jog of moonshine hidden in back behind the door, the door he was working on, but the cow looked that way—his way and it was aggravating, even though Josh could not get a good view, picture of the cow actually smirking, purposely smirking that is.
Josh walked over to the fence, jug in hand, over to the fence, looked long and hard at the cow, then at the barb wire fence, and his jug, and the cow, and the fence, and the moonshine again. The cow’s name was Nelly; he had heard Mahogany, the owner’s wife call it that.
“Wahts you git in that jug?” yelled Silas to his pa.
“Sprin’ water—,” quivered Josh as if to say it was none of his business, but didn’t, he just gave him a stare, a long stare that said what he was thinking.
The growth of the weeds kind of sheltered, and camouflaged Josh, on the other side of the fence, the cow consumed the bulk of the picture if anyone, such as the Hightower’s happened to looking his way,
Now both Josh and the cow were starting by one another, face to face you could say: big eyes at little eyes, Josh picked up the old broken metal pot, he had brought along to cover the jug with and poured some moonshine in it, fed it to the cow, and the cow drank it down, and back on the ground Josh sat watching, taking another swig himself. The cow now had a dull-gleam to its face, and hazy tin looking eyes.
The jug now between cow and man, and the cow laying down on all fours, thus, both squatted bravely by each other, and then Silas showed up.
“Pop, I dont know if we aint a-goin to git in trouble, Mr. Highter dont take to drinkin’ moonshine on his land, nor Mr. Berham…feeding dat dar cow of his the same…!
“Hus,” said Josh.
“Her woc,” said Josh, “I reckon we kin have one mo’ at dat right?” and the cow said “Mo…oooo!” And old Josh translated that into more moonshine, and gave him a lick.
“I reck-on you’ll wan-t a drink-in’ cup wont you?” Slurred Josh.
Then Josh looked up at his son, his son saying, “I knows how to drink out en a jug dot I?” And Josh passed the jug.
Old Josh and the Birmingham Cow
[1873] Episode #19/Part II of II
It had been a few days since Josh had his drinking bout with the Birmingham Cow—
“Dey dnt wants you in, wid dher cow, on dar land,” said Jordan, Josh’s younger son, adding, “Ef de Lawd don’t’ take no better care of yo’ dan I is got to…”
“I don’t want to go dar, noways,” Josh rejoined.
“Mmmmmm…,” Jordan brewed.
“When us drink up dat ‘tere moonshine, blowed clean out en our min’
let ‘lone me stomach,” said Josh, adding “dat tere cow wuz back dar,” Josh pointing by the tree over by the fence where the cow was the other day, and had returned now; Jordan adding, “I dune thought Mr. Birmham wuz goin’ to talk to Mr. Hightowr…bout you, but he didnt…yous lucky old man!”
You could here a dog howling over by the Birmingham’s front steps, Mr. Abernathy; the owner on the other side of the Birmingham’s was talking to Mahogany on her steps, another young couple, white folks, who bought the farm, he took a shine towards her, or at least that is what Old Josh thought, he was there five days out of the week talking to her as she drank her bathtub wine.
Josh stared at the two, unwinking, trying to make out a better picture for his mind, but everything was a blur, except that white skin shining in the morning sun that found its way through the thin stretched out milky white sky.
Josh found a new spot to sit and drink away the afternoon, after Jordan had left, it was a spot parallel the main road, in back of the Birmingham’s property, on government land, by some old looking whip-poor-wills, there he found his cow waiting, and they drank again, as if they were sidekicks, and perhaps they were, old Nelly took a liking to the moonshine, and Josh was not cheap with it—they both lay there steadfast, shielded by scrub and tree, and foliage of all sorts, his head was the only thing showing like a salt and pepper shaker mixed. Had someone been looking out of the Hightower house window from the side of the living room as Ella Hightower was they could have seen Josh’s head, and if she did she did not say a word to her husband.
Ella Hightower
Fraternizing with the Jug
Ella sat back in her chair in the living room, all of her instincts told her to leave well enough alone, it was a warm, and calm afternoon, and Her husband was composed, quiet, as was Josh, in his grave serenity of sorts, in which his days accomplished themselves. She had a tasteless stimulation, the secret I suppose, Josh drunk with a cow, so be it, whatever reason he had to drink so be it, she was not going to ridicule him to alarm her husband, whom would only fret over something he had no control over anyhow; she didn’t say a word: so be it, and take the whiskey with you to the grave—was her thinking, and the cow with you; she liked the afternoons she had with Charles, there were not many, so she got to appreciate the ones she got. And a drunken Negro was not going to spoil it.
Ella sat back in her rocker with her many fabrics nearby on the floor, colorful, ready to sew and crochet, she had some patterns on her lap, and she shifted them about like a puzzle. Across the room Charles sat smoking his corncob pipe, reading Hawthorn’s ‘The Scarlet Letter,’ turning pages ahead to take a peak, quickly to avoid Ella’s unseeing eyes, lest she scold him for cheating on reading the book in advance. The afternoon subsided without any grand moment, as the unshadowed head of Josh’s disappeared with the cow’s after an hour or so more, and Mr. Hightower had now fallen to sleep, book still opened, finger in the advanced section of the book, he had submerged himself into its pages, until his mind succumbed and warmly passed into deadly sleep, like a bird folding its wings.
Note: part one written at El Parquetito, 8/2/2006; part two written 8/3/2006, during lunch and coffee, in Lima, Peru.
posted by Dennis and Rosa Siluk at 10:00 PM
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